


prank call

by odetojoy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, rating bc iwaizumi keeps swearing oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetojoy/pseuds/odetojoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He briefly ponders how he might commit homicide today, it might actually be the day, but doesn’t dwell on it too much. Hands fisted, forehead vein popping, he rings the doorbell in front of him probably a few seconds too many and allows himself to take a deep breath.<br/>It all started about ten months ago, when Hajime got a call. </p><p>-</p><p>“you’ve been prank calling me every single day for almost a year now and i’m so fucking sick of it so i got my computer-gifted friend to trace your number and now i’m standing outside your apartment pounding on the door and if you think i’m just gonna leave without ripping you a new one you’re wrong motherfucker.” au no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	prank call

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this au](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/128201128202/awful-au-345)  
> i'm mostly trying out different writing styles these days, and i've wanted to write something more on a comedy side than my last fic which was pure angst (sorry about that)  
> edit: i just realized i posted this on april fools how exciting what a coincidence

Hajime was fucking  _ pissed _ .

Actually, he’s been pissed since pretty much almost a year ago, ever since this entire thing started.

He briefly ponders how he might commit homicide today, it might actually be the day, but doesn’t dwell on it too much. Hands fisted, forehead vein popping, he rings the doorbell in front of him probably a few seconds too many and allows himself to take a deep breath.

It all started about ten months ago (and wow, that’s a long time), when Hajime got a call. And kept getting more weird calls. Actually, scratch that, they weren’t  _ weird _ calls. There was nothing unusual about some kids prank calling someone while playing truth or dare or something equally as stupid. He did that once or twice, knows his friends did it - it was nothing shocking, per se. 

The thing is - the prank calls didn’t stop after one or even a couple of times. 

He kept getting them every. Single. Day.

Every day, without fail, he’d get a call from a hidden number he doesn’t know how to block, and the person (a guy, he’d learned two months into this mess when the caller stopped faking his natural voice) wouldn’t let it go until he picked up. It was infuriating. 

Sometimes, those calls crossed the “you fucking trash, stop calling me” zone and entered a “how was your day, I had an exam, it was a bitch” type. It was actually kind of nice. Maybe.

Still, the guy was a nuisance, and it took Hajime a week of begging and a promise of ramen for Hanamaki to locate the guy’s phone for him. Hanamaki, of course, did it in fifteen minutes of total, despite complaining how much work it was for him and squeezing every penny out of Hajime. It’s not like Hajime had much of a choice, being technologically on the same level as his grandfather probably.

“ _ Makki, please. I’m gonna die of migraines.” _

_ “I literally do not care at all.” _

But here he is now, sort of ready to confront the guy who’s been bugging him for the past ten months; he’s far too nervous for this. His phone tells him the guy is here  _ right now _ . It’s the mixture of anger but also jittery nerves, because while he  _ does _ want to bash the guy’s head against a brick wall, he’s also sort of curious of what he will turn out to be like. Maybe he’s really ugly. Or one of those fat guys in their thirties who still don’t do anything in life and live in their parents’ house and troll people online. (That’s what he tells himself, at least. He knows the guy’s voice is something else entirely.)

Hajime rings the bell three times more, not waiting more than a few seconds between every press of the index finger. He’s impatient, goddammit, and isn’t willing to wait for long, especially since he knows he’s one second away from strangling the guy right here and now, and he can’t back out from a perfect opportunity.

The house he’s at is nice, he thinks while waiting for someone to open the door. It looks bright, with big windows and a front lawn which looks more like a garden from how many flowers there are. 

He rings the doorbell once again, because why the hell not, and hears footsteps two seconds later.

The door opens, and there’s a flock of brown hair that looks like it might be photoshopped (Can you photoshop something in real life? Hajime doesn’t know.), and a tall body just a few centimetres taller than his.

Eyes shift towards him, chestnut brown and round. Really pretty. But that’s not what Hajime is here for.  _ Fuck _ .

“Yes? Can I help you?” the guy says and  _ oh _ , it’s The Guy. He was sort of hoping that wouldn’t be him, since then he could probably muster to invite him out for lunch or something, but since god obviously hates Hajime and he’s been something shitty in his previous life like a wasp or something and karma wants to fuck with him, that’s not the case. He clears his throat.

“You,” he spills, doesn’t really mean for it to come out like that but hey, this is his life.

The boy’s eyes widen and he looks like he’s choking on air as he scrambles to shut the door as fast as he can.

“Oi, what the fuck?” Hajime yells and hurries to put his foot between the door and the doorstep, effectively stopping him from closing the door on him. “You fucking  _ dick _ , what the hell?” He yells and crosses the arms on his chest, fuming. Fuck that attractive face, he’s going to  _ kill _ him.

The guy has the audacity to at least look a little bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck with one hand on the door handle, but still looks too satisfied for Hajime’s liking.  _ How. _

“Sorry.”

Hajime feels a headache blooming. “Are you serious right now.” It’s not phrased like a question.

“Yes? I think so at least.”

He honestly feels like banging his own head against any hard surface he can find. Is this guy for real?

“I’m gonna  _ kill you _ .”

He lunges towards the guy in the spur of the moment, and he scrambles back a few feet back. He lifts up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, don’t kill me. Please.”

Hajime quirks a brow, hand on his hip. “Why shouldn’t I?”

The guy gestures towards his face. “I’m really pretty?”

“Did you actually just say that.”

“I mean, it  _ would _ be a shame if you ruined this face.”

“I can’t believe you.”

The guy shrugs and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He does have a really pretty face, Hajime thinks, he wasn’t wrong about that, but it still doesn’t keep him from being angry.

“Look, can we try this again?” The guy extends a hand towards Hajime. “Oikawa Tooru. Nice to meet you.”

Hajime is tempted to keep glaring and/or being a dick, but somehow his mature side wins - even though the guy doesn’t  _ deserve _ to be maturely addressed to - and feels himself pout, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi Hajime,” he doesn’t try with all the  _ nice to meet you _ stuff, but the guy - Oikawa, obviously doesn’t expect him to. Instead he smiles a large grin plastered across his face and gets a really annoying glint in his eyes that Hajime simply can’t trust.

“Hajime-kun --” he starts.

“Don’t call me that,” Hajime barks out.

“Okay, Iwa-chan,” Hajime is seriously gonna die of a headache sometimes soon. “How can we start on a better note?”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Well, first of all: you can try explaining yourself?”

Oikawa guy purses his lips and looks up at the sky, as if thinking about it.

“Um. I’m not sure? I mean, it was funny.”

“Are you fucking with me.”

“No?” Oikawa looks like he seriously means it, which is weird in itself.

“It was funny for almost a year?”

He waves his hands around. “Yes? I don’t know.”

He jabs a finger into Oikawa’s chest. It’s a sturdy chest.  _ Shut up _ , he tells himself. “Explain.”

Oikawa sighs and puts hands on his hips, looking everywhere but at Hajime.

“You were kinda cool, I guess,” he mumbles, and Hajime isn’t sure he heard correctly.

He shakes his head. “What?”

Oikawa still avoids eye contact. “I don’t know! It started as a dare, because I had to keep calling you for a week, but then it sorta changed? Because I wanted to talk to you?”

Well. Hajime is kind of stunned right now. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He knows he probably looks like a fish.

If he’s being honest with himself, this stranger he’s just  _ properly _ met but has been talking to for  _ months _ is actually intriguing to him. Yes, he’s annoying and that’s probably an understatement, but he’s interesting and witty and now he sees him he can’t say he’s anything short of really fucking attractive. Inside his mind, there’s just a banging noise that doesn’t make that much sense, but he’s learned to accept it in the presence of this individual. Everything regarding him is too much for Hajime to process.

“You thought I was cool?”

That wasn’t quite the first thing he meant to say, but hey, this is Hajime’s brain-to-mouth filter we’re talking about, so obviously there’s not a lot of hope for a good result.

“ _ Thought _ being the key word here,” Oikawa smirks with a glint in his eyes and looks Hajime up and down. He feels a bit embarrassed, if he’s being quite honest with himself; but at the same time he can’t help but preen under his gaze, willing himself to feel more confident. He registers faint warmth on his cheeks, hopes it isn’t showing that much.

“Hey, watch it.”

Oikawa shrugs and huffs a laugh, leaning on his door frame. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Hajime says.

Oikawa puffs his chin up. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” but he doesn’t stop smiling.

Hajime can’t really fight the smile. They stand there for a few more seconds, just looking at each other and smiling like idiots. It’s funny how the situation has completely upturned in mere seconds. Hajime clears his throat.

“So...You wanna go have lunch?” he is somehow able to muster.

Oikawa nods his head instantly.

“Yes!” he almost yells, if a bit too eagerly. Then he catches his eagerness, shrinking in on himself a bit out of embarrassment. Hajime finds it endearing - the guy who revelled in his annoyance for  _ months _ is somehow embarrassed in front of him. Cute.

Hajime gives him a reassuring smile.

“Cool. You like pizza? I know a really good place.”

Oikawa nods, almost as if not trusting himself to speak. 

“Sure. Yeah, yeah,” his cheeks are tinted pink, almost glowing in the sunlight.

“Come on, get your jacket. I’m treating.”

The smile he receives is nothing short of blinding, and then Oikawa is rushing into his house to get ready, leaving Hajime on his doorstep, unable to stop smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway this was a lot of fun to write  
> hmu w/ prompts on tumblr @mutsukitooruz


End file.
